


The Moon Don't Hang Quite As High

by geckoholic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have asked her out in her office, separated from her nosy minions only by a glass wall. He should maybe not have made his intent quite so obvious by bringing flowers – never let it be said his mama didn't raise a gentleman – and shouldn't have aimed straight for a dinner invitation. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon Don't Hang Quite As High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pashmina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pashmina/gifts).



> Alright, so. I started -- and promptly scraped -- two different AUs, but neither of them really took off. So you're getting... awkward canon-compliant dating fic. Yay? XD 
> 
> Beta-read by andibeth82. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "3 AM" by Matchbox Twenty.

The first time Sam Wilson meets Maria Hill, he's a little bit star-struck. He's man enough to admit as much. And hey, honestly; she single-handedly saves their asses out of an armed transport. That is bound to leave an impression. 

He doesn't get around to making much of it, though. They've got helicarriers to explode and people to save. Once that's done, Captain America takes him on a nice little chase around the whole of the continent. His life has gotten a lot more busy than it once was, and that's _before_ he's handed a Stark-issued new suit and officially dubbed an Avenger. It's all a bit of a whirlwind. Yep. That's totally the excuse Sam is going to use when it comes to how long it takes him to realize they're now _colleagues_. Sort of. In the widest sense. Enough so it gives him a reason to stroll by her office and provides him with a conversation starter. 

That is how, a little over a year after she took off her helmet in that van and made his heart want to flutter straight out of his chest, Sam finally remembers that he’s a man of action and not at all a coward and asks Maria out on a date. It doesn't go over very well. 

 

***

 

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have asked her out in her office, separated from her nosy minions only by a glass wall. He should maybe not have made his intent quite so obvious by bringing flowers – never let it be said his mama didn't raise a gentleman – and shouldn't have aimed straight for a dinner invitation. 

Maria's professionally-polite expression darkens immediately. “You... what?”

“I wanted to ask you out. For dinner. Saturday, I thought, if it's good for you, but I'm flexible.” He stops there, staving off the gush of words that want to come out, places the flowers on the chair in front of her desk, which, strategic mistake, because now he hasn't got anything to keep his hands busy anymore. 

“A date,” Maria says, in the tone of voice other people would reserve for talking about how they found a rotten piece of fruit in the supermarket and detailing just how gross it was. Her eyes sweep past him, into the office she resides over before they focus back on him. 

He swallows. “Yes. A date. With me. Dinner.” 

Her eyebrows knit together in thought, but then she barks a laugh and jabs a finger at him. “Ahh. Good one. Bit tasteless, I have to say, but pretty good indeed. Tell Rogers payback is on its way.” 

Sam stares at her, baffled. “I'm not – “ 

“You've been found out, Wilson,” Maria says, waving a hand. “No need to keep the charade going. I've got work to do, and don't you have people to save somewhere? Off you go.” 

He decides that arguing his case here and now means he'll only dig himself an even deeper hole, picks up his flowers, gives her an awkward smile, and beats it out of the Stark Industries building as fast as his feet carry him. 

 

***

 

A couple days later, Sam looks up from his paperwork to find Natasha perching at the edge of his desk – yes, superheroes have desks and mission reports and one hell of a lot of red tape, and he highly suspects the woman he's trying to woo has a whole lot to do with that – and it's a testament to how used to her antics he is by now that he does _not_ startle. 

“Natasha,” he says. “What do you want?” 

She leans forward, casually as they come, peeks at the form he's currently fighting his way through and completely ignores the question. “Ohh. Expenses. That one's a pain.” 

“Yep. It is.” Natasha never turns up with no reason. She doesn't do boredom, and she hates small talk. Sam's getting a little bit nervous. “But I'm assuming you're not here to commiserate over paperwork.” 

“You know, she actually improved them,” Natasha remarks with a sly smile. “They were even more awful back at SHIELD.” 

“Aha,” Sam says, reaching for his coffee mug and taking a sip. He needs caffeine for this conversation. “Interesting.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks at him reproachfully, like he's ruining her fun. He has no idea what he's done, but immediately feels guilty for it anyway – his survival instincts are alive and well, thank you very much. She leans back a little, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails. “So I hear you're trying to bed Hill.” 

Sam, halfway through another sip of coffee, nearly chokes. “What?” 

“Hill,” Natasha repeats. “You're trying to get into her pants. Funny choice, that.” 

And yeah, no, all her talk about bedding and pants grabs Sam by his honor. “I'm not just in it to get laid. I want to get to know her, and frankly, Romanov, I'm offended that you'd – “

“Good,” she interrupts him. “That's what I wanted to hear. So, given your intentions are indeed honest, I have a plan for you.” 

 

***

 

Natasha's plan is really more of a logical conclusion. Before he tries ambushing Maria with dinner plans again, circumstances will be fabricated under which they can exchange more than three words first, so that his next attempt doesn't quite come out of nowhere. He should have thought of that himself. It does make an almost embarrassing amount of sense. 

To his chagrin, Natasha doesn't operate this mission on her own. She tells... well, basically everyone. She came up with a mission where Maria's involvement, for reasons Natasha doesn’t let him in on, is totally essential, and from the moment Sam steps onto the flight deck, all eyes are on him. Rhodes gives him a not-so-subtle thumbs up, Steve nods conspiratorially, and the Scarlet Witch honest to god _winks_ at him. Sam contemplates the angle and velocity required to use his wings for drilling himself through the ground and straight to China. 

Thankfully, they all stop behaving like teenagers once Maria appears on the scene. Their expressions are maybe a little _too_ earnest in places, but hey. Who's going to notice? 

(Maria does. She crosses the lot of them with raised eyebrows, and Sam switches escape strategies, wonders exactly how childish it would be to run to the restroom right now and not come out until the next morning. He's not seriously considering that. He is _not_.)

The mission itself is a staged milk run – which Sam finds somewhat reassuring, because the thought Natasha would use an actual real mission for her matchmaking agenda did briefly occur to him, and he's happy to have that debunked – and pretty soon everyone else has mysteriously disappeared, leaving only him and Maria to try and procure the item they're here to get. If she notices how they've all conveniently melted into the nearest available shadow, she doesn't share that revelation with him. 

She picks the lock to the storage room and whistles. “That is... somewhat mesmerizing. Deadly, I'm sure. But pretty.” 

The amphora looks properly ancient and alien, and Sam makes a mental note to check whether it's on loan from Thor. He might just have to send the guy a thank you note, if so. 

“Do you have the case?” Maria asks, sounding a little bit exasperated, and yes. Mission. They're here for a reason. Well. She's supposed to think they are, at least. 

He confirms and offers it to her. Their fingers touch as she takes it. He rather heroically manages to not react whatsoever. Also, he can _swear_ that she lingers, but that's probably a case of the wish being the father of the thought. 

He clears his throat. “Okay. Time to go?” 

Maria, done storing the amphora away and putting the sling on the case around her torso to secure it, nods. “Yeah. Let's got out of here.”

Sam has many talents but smalltalk with a woman he's carrying a torch for isn't precisely one of them, and so they don't exchange another word until Natasha arrives to pick them up. She's going to chew him out for that later, and she will be right in doing so. But hey. Baby steps, right? It's not like he's in a hurry. 

 

***

 

The following Friday evening, Sam's phone rings while he's driving home from the facility. He connects his headsets and answers. 

“You got plans for tonight?” Natasha chirps. She must know he doesn't. He doubts she'd have called if she couldn't have predicted the answer. Not her style. 

“Not yet,” he replies, assuming she's about to make his evening in one way or another. He's not wrong. 

“Good, then you've got plans now,” she says and rattles down the name and address of a bar downtown. Sam knows better than to ask for a time as well. If now is when she called, now is when he should show up there. 

She waits for him on a stool lent over the bar, chatting with the barkeeper, and, judging from the way she smiles and brushes her hair behind her ear, worming her way into free drinks. When the bell above the door rings, she swirls around and hops off the stool. 

A hand on his shoulder, she turns him until he's looking at a corner booth. Maria sits in it. She either hasn't noticed him yet, or she has and doesn't let that on. Spies, right? Can't ever be sure. 

“Go get her, tiger,” Natasha says and winks. Somehow it looks even more wrong on her than it did on Wanda. Then she grins, and _that_ is downright terrifying. But by now Sam's reasonably sure she's got his best interests at heart, and so he does as he's told. 

Maria looks up as he approaches her booth. She smiles a little, and if Sam didn't know any better he'd swear she looks apologetic. He's missing something here. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling back anyway – because this is the woman he's head over heels for, and even if he's walking into a trap of some sort, right this second he couldn't possibly care less. “This seat taken?” 

“Romanov's right, you really are adorable.” Her smile widens, and he takes a second to glare back in the direction of the bar. Maria follows his line of sight, seems to assume he's thinking it was Natasha's seat, and shakes her head. “No, it's free. I've been waiting for you, actually.” 

“For me?” Sam asks. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” She folds arms on the table in front of her, and looks down at her hands. “I have a confession to make.” 

“Oh?” is all Sam's brain manages to supply. 

“Natasha and I... we've been playing charade with you, to be honest.” 

Sam's heart sinks as he revises his opinion on whether or not Natasha is on his side. It stings a little. 

But Maria looks up, and at the expression she must find on his face, her eyes widen. “Oh, no. No, that came out wrong. I don't mean we lead you on. I do... I mean, I am interested.” 

And, okay. Things are slowly sliding into place. “So the charade was, uh, pretending that you weren't?” 

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, that was genuine. I did think Rogers was pulling one over me. There's a bit of a prank ware going on, has been since his days at SHIELD, and he mostly keeps to Romanov and Barton, but... anyway. After you left, I called Natasha to make inquiries, and things snowballed from there. We made it complicated. She has a game plan for three more missions and two chance meetings, in fact, but I... You know, I do enough pretending on the job. I wanted to come clean.” 

“The mating rituals of superheroes,” Sam says. Looked at from the right distance, the whole thing might actually be hilarious. Two seasoned spies, best of their profession, prepared for everything... except dates. He's sure he'll find it funny eventually. Right now he's kind of stunned. “So, bottom line is... you _are_ interested?” 

“Interested enough for that dinner date,” Maria replies. “I don't know you well enough for anything else, do I? We'll go from there.” 

That sounds reasonable. No, actually, that sounds _great_. It sounds like he's got a chance, and Sam Wilson is not in the habit of messing those up. “Yep,” he agrees. “We'll go from there.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Dating Rituals of Superheroes (The Role Reversal Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423411) by [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock)




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